Article

"The Canadian" - Toronto to Vancouver

"It is a sunny morning and hundreds of people are streaming through Toronto's downtown Union Station. Briefcases are in hand, they have just emerged from commuter trains that pour into the city every weekday, crammed with office workers from the surrounding suburbs. I'm heading the other way - out to gate nine and train number one on the departure board, destination Vancouver, British Columbia, 2766 miles away on the shores of the Pacific Ocean.

I join an eclectic group of travellers at the gate: backpackers, a tour group from the UK, a bevy of retired Americans, Japanese tourists, two Amish couples, and a reasonably-sized contingent of Canadians. Once we reach the platform, the backpacking crowd and a few others head left to the two economy cars at the front of the train, I turn right and hop aboard the 'Silver and Blue' sleeper car service, looking for car #129 - my home for the next three days. One problem; there appears to be no car 129, a mistake with the numbering I am told. I am shown to Car #128 instead, as we pull out of the station precisely at 09:00hrs. We head past the 553 meter (1814 foot) CN Tower, past Skydome, home to Toronto's professional baseball and football teams, and out toward the western end of the city. The train picks up speed and I watch as the skyscrapers slowly recede from view and we move into a land of seemingly endless suburbs. In the meantime... I lay out my gear in my double bedroom. On the western transcontinental CANADIAN, VIA Rail Canada's flagship route, Silver and Blue class offers a choice of upper and lower berths, as well as single, double, and triple bedrooms. My room is comfortable. There are two chairs, a WC and a small sink. The beds, concealed in the walls, are lowered by a porter at night.

Now that I'm set up I begin exploring my new world. Silver and Blue Class patrons have the exclusive use of the the Canadian's dining cars, lounges, and the celebrated glass-roofed dome cars. All of these stainless steel art deco-style cars were introduced in the mid-1950's and drew instant accolades from both railroad aficionados and the general public. Vogue Magazine devoted most o an issue the the cars' interiors in 1955. In the late 1980's, Via Rail invested CAD$200 Million in restoring and upgrading 185 of the cars. Steam was replaced by electric heat, a shower was added to each sleeping car, and mechanical components, such as the brakes were overhauled.

I take a seat in one of the four 24-seat dome cars and settle in for a little sightseeing. As the train heads north, the suburbs eventually give way to farmlands. By late morning we have entered a new world of island-dotted lakes. This is part of the Muskoka region, cottage country for Torontonians who seek refuge here on weekends and during summer vacations from the hurly-burly of city life. The train slowly winds its way from lake to lake, past cottages with boats tied up by the water's edge. At lunch I head through a succession of narrow, zigzagging corridors to the nearest dining car, and join a table with three other diners. We talk about the state of politics in our countries, the latest books we've read, and where we're travelling to next as we watch the scenery roll gently by. The lunch selection includes a quiche with Caesar salad, stuffed green peppers, or - welcome to Canada - a bison burger. As is discovered throughout my trip, food on board is generally very good, and the staff is unfailingly friendly and helpful.

Shortly after lunch we pass over French River. Three centuries ago this shallow tributary of Georgian Bay, now designated a Canada Heritage River, was one of the waterways frequented by a group of explorers from Montreal. Known as Coureurs de Bois - the Runners of the Wood - these intrepid voyagers paddled canoes laden with goods to trade with the Amerindians in exchange for beaver pelts, venturing into the Great Lakes and deep into the vast uncharted land that lay beyond.

... The train travels deeper and deeper into the Canadian Shield, a massive expanse of exposed Precambrian Rock, some of the oldest on the planet, that extends all the way to the Arctic and as far west as the Rocky Mountains. This land of granite and gneiss dates back billions of years, and the intervening millennia have evolved a complicated geological story of faulting, folding and compression. But the current topography owes its biggest debt to the effects of glaciation over the last million years. A succession of continental glaciers have scoured the ancient mountain rage, scraping away the topsoil and creating countless depressions that have since filled in, creating one of the biggest collections of lakes and swamps on the planet. The vegetation is primarily boreal forest of spruce, pine, poplar and larch, which blanket the land so thickly it is hard to imagine how the animal denizens such as moose and bear make their way through it. Not to mention the thousands of underpaid workers who we were saddled with the task of laying rails along this route through a primeval land in the early 20th century. With picks and axes and blasting powder they punched holes through rock walls.

After dinner I head to the dome car nearest my cabin with my cup of hot tea. The moon has risen now and casts a dappled glow on the lakes that we pass. Ahead I can see 21 cars stretching in front of me, a 400-meter long behemoth, arcing this way and that as the train follows its circuitous route. The lights front the train illuminate a narrow swath beside the tracks reflecting off the white birches. But the pine trees are mere dark forms etched against the inky blackness of the night sky, Above me, the pale smear of the Milky Way dominates the sky.

A quick nightcap at the bar in the rear car of the train and I return to my room. During dinner, the steward has folded down the bed from the wall, laid out the blankets and turned on my reading lamp. I sit propped up in bed with a magazine, After a few minutes, I turn off the light and look out through the window at the foot of my bed. Outside, the woods are as poet Robert Frost put it, "lovely, dark and deep".

At breakfast I'm back at a table with my dinner companions from the previous night. While the waitress brings us our pancakes, sausages and morning coffee we chat and look out the windows on an even more awesome collection of lakes than the previous day. The woods here are home to large numbers of bear and moose.

I spot the telltale mark of beavers near the tracks - neatly gnawed trees that they will use to build the beaver lodges where they will spend the winter.

A sign on the north side of the tracks announces that, after 1800 kilometers and 30 hours on the rails we have left the vast province of Ontario and entered Manitoba. Soon, the landscape changes. First it is the lakes and the rocky outcroppings - our constant companions for the past day - which begin to disappear. Then the track straightens out, stretching for miles without the slightest bend. Fields appear, some with rich black earth. Slowly, miraculously, we emerge from the Canadian Shield into a world that becomes progressively flatter and flatter. The trees are also receding from view and by mid-afternoon we are travelling into the beginning of plains that extend west for hundreds of kilometers, through Saskatchewan, the neighboring province, and into Alberta. Canadians know this land as the Prairies and it is among the most fertile patches in Canada - in the summer, a scene of endless fields of wheat. We cross a causeway and stop for an hour at Winnipeg, yet another Canadian city that owes its birth to the fur trade and the railway. Beyond the Manitoba capital, the flatness of the land is extraordinary, stretching off as far as the eye can see; only the occasional farm of grain elevators - tall storage silos - break the view. Locals call this "big Sky Country" and its true. The vaulting dome above us seems much vaster than anything I've ever seen in Eastern Canada.

This being early November, I opt for an early night and head to my bedroom. On the way I stop for a little post-dinner conversation in a dome car. One of the glories of train travel is the people you meet along the way. Maybe its the type of traveller drawn to moving at a leisurely pace, rather than people who can't wait to get where they are going, but this trip introduces me to an interesting group. People like Keith, and his stories of surveying the Arctic regions of Canada; Don, the court reporter from Los Angles, and his tales of the lesser deeds of Hollywood stars; Dutch, the retired conductor, and anecdotes from his years riding the rails through Canada. By the time this trip is over, I know I am going to miss some of them.

Back in my room... I feel wonderfully snug and happy. The sky has cleared and the stars are out in force, as well as some strange lights that flash up into the sky all along the northern horizon. Aurora Borealis, the northern lights. I am mesmerized by it and though part of me feels like nodding off to sleep , I continue to watch the celestial display as the train thunders along through the night on its north-westerly arc through Saskatchewan.

By the time I get up we have sailed clear through Saskatchewan and entered Alberta. Light dawns on a new landscape of rolling hills. This is one of the appeals of rail travel; the speed is slow enough to have you constantly wondering what lies just around the next bend and yet fast enough to present a continually changing panorama.

Just after sunrise the train pulls into Edmonton for a one-hour pit-stop. Not enough time to head out to the West Edmonton Mall, with 800 stores, a skating rink, an amusement park and the World's fastest indoor roller coaster. But that's fine, I'm itching for the train to leave because the next leg will take us to the Rocky Mountains.

...I begin to make out the mountains, their snow-covered form disappearing seamlessly into a leaden-gray sky. We follow the shores of the Athabasca River into Jasper, passing a group of four elk along the way.

We reach Jasper at 14:00 and stop for an hour. After a quick tour I hop back on the train and we set off. Soon we are climbing, snaking our way through the mountains and heading toward Yellowhead pass. The weather conditions are changing almost upon the instant with fog that drifts by and clouds that scud across the landscape. One moment I am looking at a mountain peak, a minute later it is no longer there, making me wonder whether I ever saw it in the first place. By now it is standing room only in the rear dome car. We follow the shore of Moose Lake. Its bluish-green waters provide a sombre double image of mountain peaks that fade away into the fog and clouds. Soon we cross Yellowhead Pass [named for a local bird] on the continental divide, the point from which all waters flow either west to the Pacific, north to the Arctic Ocean or east to the Atlantic. This also marks our entry into the last of the five provinces on our journey, British Columbia. Now all eyes are peeled for Mount Robson - at 3954 meters (13,000feet) the highest peak in the Canadian Rockies. We think we spot it several times but no one seems sure. Ahead, the sky has actually begun to clear on the horizon and the setting sun begins to peek through. Someone calls out "There's Robson!". I turn around expecting to see a peak slightly higher than the others. But no - this mountain towers above the rest, a mammoth snow-covered form that stretches impossibly high into the sky. The timing is perfect. The dying rays of sunlight shine on Robson, bathing it briefly in a rosy hue, as though the sun has singled it out from the rest of the mountains that cluster around it. Many of the people in the car have travelled far and wide in the world but all are speechless. Someone starts clapping and the whole car erupts with a round of applause. I think of the romantic poets of the early 19th century and their concept of the sublime - something that quite literally takes your breath away. For a few moments this day, I have experienced the sublime.

I sleep well that night. Arriving at the dining car at 06:30 the next day, I eat a quick meal of porridge and head back to my room. The train is scheduled to arrive in Vancouver in an hour. I pack my bag and sit and watch out of my window as we hug the shores of the muddy, salmon-rich waters of the Fraser River snaking its way into Vancouver. Many visitors to Canada rate this city as their favourite destination; and with good reason. Situated on the Pacific Ocean and rimmed by an impressive backdrop of mountain peaks, it is one of North America's most beautifully located cities - and a fitting end to my journey. I take a last look around at my home for the previous three days, and head outside into the fresh morning air."